


CSJJ Day 24: Frozen Butts and Warm Hearts

by xhookswenchx (ReluctantPrincess)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-24
Packaged: 2018-09-19 15:03:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9446723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReluctantPrincess/pseuds/xhookswenchx
Summary: Here is a fun little winter story for @csjanuaryjoy based on the prompt:“I slipped on the ice in front of you and you helped me to the hospital and are looking after me”It kinda got away from me, so the full story will be split up into two parts. (The second part will be posted within the next couple weeks. I’m still working on it!)But, I do have almost 10,000 words for you to enjoy! Filled with broken dreams and lots of fluff. (I know that doesn’t sound like it goes together, but trust me, it’ll be okay!)A rogue hockey puck causes some problems for Emma. Then she meets the man who sent it her way.Thank you so much @ilovemesomekillianjones for being my beta! I know this wasn’t an easy task for you! (Me and my word vomit!)





	

"Look out, love!”

The shout startled Emma, who turned to see a hockey puck hurtling towards her at top speed. Before she knew it, her feet were in the air, and her ass was headed towards the ice.

Her butt hurt, because it managed to land right on the damn puck she’d tried to avoid. If the sickening crunch she’d heard hadn’t rendered her left leg useless, she would be marching over to the idiot who’d sent the wayward puck in her direction, and beat him over the head with his own damn hockey stick.

She wanted to cry out, but realized the moron who’d put her in this position was now rushing towards her, his group of friends right behind him. Everything hurt. There was no way her leg wasn’t broken after landing on it funny, and knowing her luck her tailbone was probably all jacked up too.

“Are you all right, lass?” the man asked. He was gorgeous. Dark hair stuck out of the beanie on his head, and his beautiful blue eyes were full of concern. Just as she was ready to melt into a puddle just thinking about his voice, (and that accent!) she remembered it was his fault she was in so much pain. She shot him a dirty look, and he frowned. “I’m sorry.”

With a heavy sigh, she tried to put it in perspective. Yes, it was his fault, but it wasn’t like he intended for it to happen. Plus, he was over here trying to help her out, so the least she could do was act a little grateful. They _could_ have run off, and left her forgotten on the ice.

“Mary Margaret,” his friend turned to the woman who was with them, “go start up the truck.”

“What?” Emma asked as the petite brunette skated away.

“We’re taking you to the hospital, love,” the British guy stated.

“I’m fine,” she insisted.

“Sweetheart, have you seen your leg?”

Guilt. It had to be guilt. There was no other reason for him to be so kind to her. It wasn’t like he knew who she was. At least, he didn’t _act_ as if he recognized her.

“Look,” the other man said, “you need to go to the hospital. If you’d rather have someone else take you, then that’s fine-”

“I’m not here with anyone else,” she snapped. The pain, and the desire to _not_ lose it in front of these guys was making her cranky.

“Can we help you, then?” British guy asked.

Emma nodded, but still sulked as the two men argued about the best way to get her to their truck. The woman came back, and proclaimed she’d grabbed their gear just as the men worked together to lift Emma.

The yelp of pain escaped her before she had a chance to stifle the cry, and immediately, British guy started griping at his friend to be more careful. Slowly, they made their way off the ice, and towards the truck. Along the way, the two men tried talking to her, she assumed, as a distraction. She learned their names were David, (the blonde one) and Killian (British asshole who couldn’t play hockey properly). Their petite brunette friend was Mary Margaret, and it didn’t take long for Emma to discover that she was David’s wife. There was still no recognition when she told them her name, but then again, that was why she moved to the small town in the first place. To disappear.

“The cab is too small for all of us,” David explained, a sheepish look on his face as he and Killian loaded Emma in the back. Emma knew exactly what that meant, she was going to ride in the back, in the freezing cold, all the way to the hospital. It made sense though, seeing as it hurt to move her leg, and she was probably better off lying down in the bed of the truck, than cramped in the cab.

“Hold still, love,” Killian said as he hopped up into the bed, “let’s see if we can’t make sure you’re as comfortable as possible for the trip.”

Even after all the sniping she did, Killian was being more than generous. She mentally scolded herself for being such a jerk. While it wasn’t wrong to be angry, she had to remind herself that it was an accident.

The rumble from the truck as David started it jostled her a bit, and she just knew it was going to be a bumpy ride. She continued to try and keep from crying, but found it impossible, as the pain started taking over.

“I’m sorry,” Killian said. The truck hadn’t gone far, and it was already proving to be a difficult trip. Emma could tell that David was going as slowly as he could to keep the ride as smooth as possible, but it didn’t matter. Her leg still hurt, and the wind picked up, giving her a chill.

She frowned when Killian took off his coat and wrapped it around her. Just because she was hurt didn’t mean he needed to subject himself to frostbite. “You don't-” Her protest was lost when she realized how warm and cozy his coat was.

That was when the dam seemed to break. All the pain and humiliation overtook her, and she did the one thing she didn't want anyone to see. The sudden sobs seemed to alarm Killian. He wrapped his arms around her, and continued to apologize for the accident. Emma was unable to find the strength to push him away, and strangely enough, having someone who cared (even if they only cared because they didn't want her to sue) gave her a tiny bit of comfort.

She'd have to deal with the fallout eventually, knowing she'd be out of commission for a decent amount of time. All hopes for making a comeback after her fumble at the Olympics a couple years back were a pipe dream now.

Her leg was at least broken, and judging by the way she'd landed, and the subsequent pain, it was probably a huge mess. If she didn't need surgery, it would be a miracle.

By the time they arrived at the hospital, Emma was in so much pain, that she couldn't even focus on what was going on around her. She was vaguely aware that Killian was talking, but she couldn't make out what he was saying, or if he was even talking to her. Before she knew it, she was being lifted out of the truck bed, and transferred to a gurney.

When she came to, her leg was in a cast, and propped up. There was also an IV drip, and too many monitors that she didn’t recognize. With a groan, she tried to sit up a bit, and was promptly stopped by someone.

“Easy there, lass.” Oh great, Killian had decided to stick around.

“I’m not going to sue you,” she mumbled, still hazy from whatever pain medication she’d been given. “You don’t have to stick around.”

“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” Killian explained, “and we couldn’t just leave without notifying your family. I didn’t want you to be alone when you woke up.”

“I don't have any family,” she snapped. “Get away from me.” She turned away from him so he wouldn't see the tears that were starting to fall. Despite her telling him to buzz off, she could tell he hadn't moved. “I don't need you,” she said angrily, “get lost!”

Killian sighed, and stepped back, but he didn't leave the room. “This is my fault,” he reminded her, as if she didn't already know. “Please let me try and make up for it.”

“So, what?” Even though she was crying, she turned to face him, “You want to follow me around like some lost puppy so you can feel better?”

“It was an accident,” he said. The sound of defeat was obvious, and Emma couldn't help but feel awful for the way she was treating him. Maybe he was just trying to save himself from a lawsuit, but maybe, just maybe, he actually cared.

Right. No one cared about a random stranger. This was all for his own ego.

“You already ruined my career,” she said, looking away from him again. “So, it's not like you can do anything worse than that.” When he didn't say anything, she added, “That means you can stick around and continue to make me miserable if that's what helps you sleep at night.”

There was a brief moment of silence, followed by a chuckle. “It _would_ help me sleep at night,” he finally said. She heard him pull a chair up to her bedside, but she refused to face him. “I'm certain you'd enjoy having your own personal punching bag for the next few weeks?”

“Why are you being so nice to me?” she asked. It didn't make any sense. She hated herself for being cruel in hopes of getting him to go away, and it only made her feel worse when he just put up with it.

“You're hurt,” he said, matter of factly. “You're also angry. So, you're lashing out. I can understand that, Emma.”

A doctor joined them before she could say anything else. He made a brief observation about her being awake, then turned to Killian. The two men started chatting, as if they knew each other already. It was just a bit of small talk, but the fact that she was sitting on the sidelines annoyed her.

“Hey!” Emma shouted. They both stopped talking, and looked over at her. “I’m the patient,” she stated. “And I don’t know why you’re talking to him instead of me, but he’s not with me. He isn’t my husband, or boyfriend, or even my friend. So if you’re thinking about discussing my medical information with him, I’m going to sue.”

“You were right,” the doctor laughed, “she’s a spitfire.” He looked towards Emma, “I wasn't going to discuss your medical issues with him. Doctor Jones knows the drill.” He laughed again when Emma muttered under her breath.

 _Of course he was a doctor._ She shot a dirty look in Killian's direction, and he excused himself so she could hear the bad news in private. The actual prognosis wasn't as terrible as she thought it would be. There would only be a need for a cast, and surgery was likely unnecessary at this point. “We’ll check again as you heal,” the doctor, Whale, she thought he'd said, explained, “but I don't see you needing anything more than a lot of rest.”

That meant weeks of being in a cast, weeks of being off the ice, and lord only knew how long she'd have to spend training just to build up her strength again. All she could see were her dreams going up in smoke, and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about it.

“It’ll be okay, Emma,” Doctor Whale tried to assure her. He didn’t understand. She didn’t feel like trying to explain it. “If it makes you feel any better, your tailbone is only bruised.” When Emma didn’t respond, he sighed, “Okay. Look, you passed out, probably from shock, but that still worries me a little bit. I’m going to keep an eye on you overnight, and if you’re fine in the morning, I’ll have you discharged.”

“Fine,” she muttered, cursing the fact that she couldn’t cross her arms without risking tearing out her IV.

“I can see you want to be alone,” he said, “is there anything else I can help you with before I go?”

She resisted the urge to tell him to “scram,” because that would make her hospital stay more miserable than it already was. Being alone was a good option, but she found rather quickly that she already missed her obnoxious new friend’s company. “Maybe…” a few tears started to fall, and a lump formed in her throat. She didn’t have to be alone. Killian said he’d help her out, that he’d take care of her, that he’d just _be_ there. Why she suddenly felt like she needed his presence, she wasn’t sure, but now, she was hoping he hadn’t listened when she’d told him to get lost. “Maybe you can tell Killian he can come back?” she asked, her voice cracking. “I mean...if he hasn’t already left...and only if he wants to come back.” Because after the way she treated him, why would he want to come back?

The doctor may have smirked, but she was already a mess of heavy sobs, and big ugly tears. If Killian _did_ come back, he’d likely be repulsed by the snotty monster she’d transformed into. Time passed, though whether or not it was a few minutes, or an eternity, she couldn’t tell. The longer she waited, the worse she felt. What if he didn’t come back? How could she apologize?

“Emma?”

She sniffled, and wiped her nose, cringing at the awful action, then looked up. Killian was standing in the doorway, looking unsure of whether or not he should step further into the room. “You stayed,” she said in disbelief.

“I told you I would,” he said softly. “Do you want me to stay?”

Emma nodded, thankful that he didn’t mention how horrifying she looked. “They’re keeping me overnight.”

“I know.”

“You don’t have to-”

“I don’t have plans.” He came into the room, and sat down at the chair that was still by her bedside. “I’m sorry I ruined your career,” he said.

“You didn’t,” she sobbed, “I’m sorry! I shouldn’t have even said that to you!”

“Emma!” She felt him wrap his arms around her, careful of the IV and monitors. “It’s okay!” He seemed exasperated, as if he didn’t know how to calm down a hysterical woman. “Shhh,” he tried, “it’s okay, please don’t cry.”

“I was so horrible,” she cried, “you didn’t ruin my career. I did.” He let her go, satisfied that she was done with her meltdown, and she dared to look at him. His too blue eyes were filled with worry, and he was chewing nervously on his bottom lip. If they had met under any other circumstances, she could probably-

No. No, she couldn’t go down that road. Not again.

“When you mentioned your career, I googled you,” he admitted. “Turns out you’re a figure skater.” He gave her a silly, lopsided grin that made her giggle.

“So you saw my royal screwup at the Olympics?” she asked.

Killian nodded, then frowned. “I must have set you back-”

“I wasn’t going to make it again anyway,” she waved it off. Sure, that was all she’d hoped for, to find her way back into the spotlight so she could make up for losing so terribly at the last Olympic games, but if she were being completely honest with herself, it wasn’t going to happen. She had no direction, no real drive, and no coach.

“Well,” he mused, “I may be a piss poor hockey player, but I _can_ skate. I know you’re going to be out of commission for some time, but, if you wanted, we could work together to maybe get you on the ice again?”

“You said you wanted to make sure I was okay, not completely insert yourself into my life-”

“You need a coach?”

“Yes, but-”

“But nothing,” he said, “I made this mess, Emma, I damn well intend to fix it.” She couldn’t believe someone she barely knew was so determined to help her, for no real reason at all. She listened as he gave her a mini-life story of his skating experience, and his ideas on how they could quickly get her back in the game. “You’ll have to get an actual coach at some point, because I can really only take you so far, but I can get you comfortable on the ice again. It’ll be hard, but it’s possible you won’t miss much.”

“I already told you I’m not going to sue you,” she commented, still unsure of his intentions.

He laughed, and shook his head, brushing off the comment. “I just want to help you,” he said, “if you’d rather I get lost, then say the word, but I’m not doing this to save my sorry arse. I just want to help.”

“Don’t go.”

* * *

 

Having Killian around wasn't as invasive as Emma thought it would be. He'd practically moved into her little apartment, but he worked, so it wasn't as if he was following her around all day.

For the past few weeks, he'd shown up in the morning before work, and made her breakfast. She insisted she could survive on Pop-Tarts, but he seemed to be taking his pseudo-coach duties seriously. “We want you as healthy as possible, so you aren't set back too much once that cast comes off,” he'd told her. He came to check on her at lunch, and then returned after work to make her dinner.

He never lingered if she requested space, but some nights, he'd stay after dinner was done, and they'd just hang out. It was nice, not having to be so lonely. She discovered quickly that weekends were her favorite.

The first Saturday was a little chaotic. Neither were really sure about boundaries. Having him checking up on her during the day, and going home at night? Sure, that was easy enough, but weekends were different.

“I can leave,” he’d said after breakfast, “and you can just call if you need me. Unless...you want me to stick around?”

She'd decided company was fine, and her weekends, just like her weekdays, were suddenly not so lonely.

Was it over the top? Maybe a little, but he didn't seem to be put out, and he wasn't as obnoxious as she predicted he'd be, so the arrangement stuck.

Which brought them to an extremely snowy Saturday evening. “It's crazy out there,” she commented after a glance out the window. The snowstorm that was expected to hit tomorrow seemed to have sped up a bit.

“I'll be fine, Swan,” he assured her. “I don't live far-”

“You should stay,” she blurted out. Not that she'd admit she was worried about him or anything, but if all hell broke loose, she didn't want him to get hurt. “I sleep on the couch most nights anyway,” she explained. When he quirked an eyebrow, she shrugged, “It's easier on me if I have to get up in the middle of the night.”

“Is it easier for your back? Because I can't imagine you being very comfortable on this thing. Perhaps that's why you wake in the middle of the night?”

“Are you a pediatrician, or a chiropractor?” she teased.

He laughed, and patted the seat next to him. “I'll stay,” he said, “so you can stop worrying about the bloody storm.”

Emma hobbled over, ignoring a remark about how she should be using crutches instead of hopping around, and sat next to Killian. It surprised her how easily she'd grown to trust him, when in the beginning, she just wanted to be left alone. In the span of just a few weeks, he'd become a semi-permanent fixture in her life, and from the looks of it, he wasn't planning on going anywhere. “So...wanna see what's on tv?”

“Su...nevermind’.” They both groaned when the power went out. “I suppose we'll just have to entertain ourselves the old fashioned way.”

“You mean like…” she made a face, “we have to actually _talk_ to each other? Gross. Text me until my phone dies.” The sound of his laughter warmed her heart, despite the quickly dropping temperature.

“You never cease to amuse me,” he said, once he stopped laughing.

“I just realized that I don't have anything for you to wear,” she said, which started him up again.

“I guess I could just walk around naked,” he chuckled, “and you could text me to let me know how uncomfortable you are. Because, you know, talking is strictly prohibited.”

“How will you text me if my phone is dead?” she giggled. “Besides, it’s dark. I doubt I’d see you. Not until morning anyway, after you’ve frozen to death.”

They were interrupted by Killian’s phone, which, surprisingly had a decent signal despite the horrid weather conditions. He excused himself, and she took the opportunity to lie down on the couch, propping her foot on the arm rest. When he returned, she just gave him a smug little grin.  

“It was just Dave, telling me I should probably stay put,” he explained.

“Probably a good idea,” she agreed, “wish we'd thought of it.”

He shook his head, and lifted her legs so he could sit. She settled back down, her legs now propped on his lap, and they sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments as the wind howled outside.

“Could I ask you a personal question?” Killian asked, breaking the silence. “You’re not obligated to answer,” he added quickly.

They’d avoided anything too personal, and the fact that he was cautious about even attempting to get to know her spoke volumes. He didn’t want to upset her, or scare her off. But the more time they spent together, the more she wanted to know about him, and it was only fair that she let him in a little too. “Go ahead.”

“I’m assuming you didn’t make it all the way to the Olympics on your own,” he said, “not that you couldn’t...I mean, you’re good. I watched the videos-”

“I know you’re not trying to insult me,” she laughed.

“I just mean...don’t most skaters have a coach?”

Oh. He _would_ ask about that. “I haven’t had a coach since I left Russia. _Before_ I left.”

“You went to Russia?” He seemed interested in her travels, and she hoped that he might forget all about his coach inquiry.

“Yeah,” she nodded. He didn’t ask any more questions about it, so she tried to push the topic. “It was pretty cool, actually. You know, aside from...well, I’m sure you saw the video.”

“Right,” he sighed, “I saw the video. Is that why you don’t have a coach?”

Emma frowned, realizing she’d just shot herself in the foot with her last statement. “Coaches want winners, not klutzes.”

“There's more to the story, isn't there?”

“I don't really want to talk about it,” she said, making it clear the discussion was over.

“Okay,” he said. She expected things to get awkward, but he quickly changed the subject to life with his roommates. She found his stories were much more entertaIning than the memories of her less than ideal last moments in the spotlight.

“Why do you have roommates if you're a fancy doctor?” she teased. When he frowned, she realized she'd hit a nerve. “I'm sorry, you don't have to answer that. I was just playing around.”

“It's a long story, Swan,” he said. “I'd really rather not talk about it either.”

“Okay.” She reached for his hand, surprised when she didn't find herself in a completely awkward situation. He met her halfway, smiling at her when she gave his hand a little squeeze. It was the best she could do, when she didn't really know what to say.

Killian brushed his thumb over her knuckles, almost absentmindedly. He had a look on his face that Emma had come to know well. Deep in thought, a million miles away. “Your hands are cold,” he said, after she tried to suppress a shiver brought on by the chill.

“We should probably get some blankets,” she told him, oddly surprised at how warm he felt. “Maybe we should...I don't know…”

“Stay close?” he asked.

Emma nodded, though she wasn't sure staying close was a good idea. For the cold, it was absolutely necessary to try and keep as warm as possible, but cuddling up with Killian Jones might cause irreparable damage to the wall she'd so carefully constructed with the specific purpose of keeping people out.

But the cold was starting to get to the point of intolerability. If she wanted any sleep, she was going to have to get her heart and her brain to come to an agreement. “My bed is probably roomier than this couch,” she suggested.

She wasn’t really sure what she was thinking, offering up her bed. Sleeping on the couch was easier, she could keep her leg propped up without having to worry about pillows shifting around all night. But Killian tried his best to set her up for comfort.

There was a little awkwardness when he left the room so she could change into her pajamas. She knew the guy wasn’t _really_ going to walk around naked, but she didn’t know exactly what to expect. When he returned in his boxers and t-shirt, she let out a little sigh of relief. “I told you I would stay decent,” he reminded her with a smirk, “didn’t I?” He dropped a pile of blankets on the floor, and sat down on the edge of the bed. “I likely brought more than we need, but I’d much rather have too much, than not enough. So, we can start with what we have, and if it gets worse, I can just reach over, and grab another blanket. Sound good?”

“Yeah,” she nodded.

It was a bit like playing Tetris. The room was incredibly cold, and the whole point of staying close was to hopefully keep some body heat going, but her monster cast made things difficult. She started on her back, with Killian snuggled up beside her, but found that uncomfortable. Then, she tried to move to her side, but didn’t like the pressure on her injured leg. After moving to her stomach, she heard Killian grumbling something, so she tried to stay put, but found it absolutely impossible to get comfortable sleeping that way.

After an internal debate, she realized she wasn’t going to get to sleep unless she was comfortable, so she tried to turn to her other side without disturbing Killian.

“For the love of God, Emma,” he muttered, “you can’t sleep that way, because your cast is digging into my side.”

“Sorry.”

“Hold on.” He shifted to his side, and reached back for her leg. It didn’t take her long to figure out what he was doing, so she scooted closer, spooning up behind him, with her leg slung over him. “How’s that?”

It was actually fairly comfortable. “It can’t be that comfortable for you,” she said.

“I’m fine,” he assured her, “so long as your cast isn’t digging into me, I’m fine.” He made a disgruntled sound when she giggled.

When they woke the next morning, she was surprised to find that not only had she not moved the entire night, but two blankets had magically draped over them some time during the night.

“You okay?” Killian asked, his voice thick with sleep. She mumbled that she was fine, but when he tried to move, she refused. “What’s wrong?”

“Cozy,” she said.

“I don’t think the power’s back,” he said, “so perhaps you have the better plan for the morning.” He wriggled around so he was lying on his back, and Emma readjusted so she could stay comfy, without digging her cast into his side. “Sleep all day?” he asked.

“Best idea ever,” she laughed. They’d have to get up eventually, but if the power was still out, then the storm was still raging on. She tried not to think about how good it felt to have someone to snuggle with on a cold day, and she certainly tried to push the comforting feeling of him drawing random nonsense on her back out of her mind. It was something she could get used to, and something that could get her hurt.

“I went through a nasty divorce,” he said, seemingly out of the blue. “That’s why I moved in with Dave and Mary Margaret,” he explained.

“She bled you dry?” Emma asked.

“There was nothing to bleed,” he said, with a small chuckle. “I was still in school, so...everything was hers. Except for the student loans. Those were all mine.” He got quiet for a moment, as if waiting for her to pry, but when she didn’t, he continued. “We met in college. I hadn’t started med school yet, and she was close to graduating. We got married, she somehow found a great job, and things were great. Until they weren’t. I truly think it wasn’t so much a mismatch, as it was the fact that everything happened so quickly. We never took the time to really get to know one another, nor did we learn how to deal with the ups and downs. Between the stress of my school, and her job, and all the little things that marriage brings with it, we just crumbled after a year. I was the one who left, the one who filed for divorce, and I asked for nothing. But it still hurt.”

“Just because things don’t work out, doesn’t mean you didn’t love that person,” Emma said.

“Exactly,” he agreed. “I don’t blame her, because I’m just as much at fault as she was. But she made my life miserable. I’m assuming it was coming from a similar place, because we were both hurt, but...that’s why I moved in with Dave and Mary Margaret. I needed my friend’s close, and they were more than happy to take me in. Currently, even with all the debt I’ve piled up thanks to med school, I can afford my own place, but they need the rent money.”

God, he was just a good guy all around, wasn’t he? “You like to take care of people.”

“Aye. I suppose that’s why I became a doctor.”

She figured it was only fair to share her tragic backstory since he poured his own heart out. “I was sleeping with my coach.” She paused, because she wasn't sure how else to put it. Her entire predicament all stemmed from her one big lapse in judgement.

The silence was broken by Killian trying to fill in the gaps. “I'm assuming he left because you stopped sleeping with him?” he asked. “Or was it another reason entirely?”

“He was sleeping with someone else,” she said.

“That would do it. Did you find this out before or after?”

Emma didn't have to ask what he meant, she knew which before or after he was talking about. “Minutes before,” she answered,“in the locker room, with the bubble headed bimbo from New York.” It had been so long, and yet, the wound still felt fresh. Not to mention, it seemed like someone was always pouring salt into it.

“I know I can’t blame my personal issues for my professional blunders,” she said, “but...all I could think about was how horrible I felt, and all I could see was…”  Emma shut her eyes, and tried to shake the image from her head. She felt Killian hold her just a little tighter as she started sobbing. “So yeah, I screwed up. I fell, and instead of picking myself back up, I just...I couldn’t.”

“I’m certain no one could fault you for that,” he said.

“Oh, but they can,” she assured him. “I don’t know if my coach was planning on leaving me, or just planning on screwing around, but he didn’t hesitate to publicly drop me. Ever since then, I’ve just kind of kept out of the public’s eye.”

“You didn’t look for a new coach?”

“At the time? No one would take me. Coaches want winners.” Sometimes, she thought that maybe, if she’d attempted to pick herself back up, that she might have had a chance. But instead, she looked like a quitter, and no one was willing to take a shot on someone they couldn’t depend on. “Bet you’re rethinking all that help you promised,” she added with a little laugh. After learning the truth, she figured he’d want to back out, and she didn’t want him to think she was holding him to anything.

But Killian surprised her when he refused to change his mind. “Some time has passed, and you staying out of the limelight is to your disadvantage, but getting you back in the game isn’t impossible, love.” Before she could remind him that he only promised to get her back into shape, he shushed her. “Leave the search up to me. I’ll find you the best damned coach money can buy.” (He didn’t let her protest that one either.)

“How on earth are you going to get anyone to take me on?” she asked. She appreciated the gesture, but she’d been pretty much blacklisted after her last performance. Any coach that was worth anything had heard of her, and had seen it all. Not to mention, that, despite the fact that her romance had been a secret, somehow, word had spread, and it only made things worse. No one wanted a quitter who was rumored to have slept her way to the top.

If nobody was willing to take her on then, what would change now?

“Don’t take this the wrong way, Emma,” Killian laughed, “but we just have to figure out how to sell you.”

“Pimping me out to coaches?” she giggled. For the first time since the ugly rumors started, she found humor in them. “Did you check my wiki? Apparently, putting out is how I get coaches, so it should work.”

“Stop with that nonsense,” he groaned.

“What do you get out of all of this?” There was always a catch, and a small part of her worried that Killian Jones was just waiting for the right opportunity to get something out of the situation. Not that he acted as if he were hiding anything, but who went above and beyond for someone they barely knew?

“If I’m lucky, you wouldn’t mind me flying on over to South Korea to watch you win?”

She didn’t answer. How was she _supposed_ to answer? He’d already long since told her that fear of a lawsuit wasn’t the reason he’d stuck around. He never made any sort of inappropriate advances, and despite a bit of mutual flirtations, it was clear that his motive was _not_ to get into her pants. But she wasn’t completely convinced that he was in it for an excuse to go to Korea on his own dime.

“I just want to help,” Killian sighed, signaling she’d been silent for too long. “Not just because it’s my fault you’ve suffered a pretty big setback, but because I like you, Emma. You’re fun to be around, and you’re a good person, and I want you to succeed. I would like nothing more than to see you achieve your dreams.”

“Okay,” she agreed, “you sell me. But, let me pay for my own coach? I know it might look like I'm a poor, destitute Olympic hopeful, but I am _not_ hard up for cash.” All the money in the world didn’t seem to talk when it came to finding a new coach, but she couldn’t have him going into debt for her.

Part of her wanted to tell him about the nice little trust fund that kept her going. She knew it would at the very least stop his pity, but she also knew that people treated her differently once they found out about her money.

“I think we have a deal.”

* * *

 

Something had definitely changed after that snowstorm.  Emma found Killian was less cautious around her, and that her own walls had lowered, if only just a little bit.

She found herself more willing to go out. Despite the cold causing her leg to ache, she wasn’t quite as doped up on pain medication, and was getting fairly bored sitting around the house. Their first weekend out, Killian brought her out for a hockey game.

Well, not so much a game, just a little one on one between Killian and his friend David. She grumbled a little when Killian helped her out of his car, even though she knew she needed the assistance. “Thought you’d bring me back to the scene of the crime, huh?” she teased as he handed over her crutches.

“Very funny, Swan,” he laughed.

“So, am I supposed to cheer for you?” she continued. “Because...I feel like that would be silly. We both _know_ you’re a terrible hockey player.”

“Bloody hell, love,” he smirked, and put his hand over his heart, “right for the kill there.”

She did her best to lean in without getting awkward, but it was still a difficult little shuffle. They both giggled when he helped right her, and she found it difficult to stop, and sound menacing when she whispered into his ear: “If I was going for the kill, I’d get you right between the eyes.”

“You’re truly terrifying,” he said as he continued to laugh. “Now, tell me darling, if I let go, are you going to be able to keep yourself upright?”

Emma nodded, suddenly all too aware of how close he was. He offered her his coat when she failed to suppress a little shiver...that had absolutely nothing to do with the chill in the air. “I’m okay,” she said quickly, steadying herself back on her crutches.

For a brief moment, they just stood there, staring at one another, and she thought he might kiss her, but the moment was lost when David quite loudly, clapped Killian on the back, and proclaimed he was going to make a mockery of him on the ice.

Mary Margaret wandered up with a bag and two thermoses, “I know hot chocolate doesn’t really go with tomato soup, but it’s warm. How about we stay cozy while the guys make fools of themselves on the ice?” Emma agreed that was a great idea, and the two made their way over to a picnic table that was close enough for a good view, and, hopefully, out of puck range.

“So,” Mary Margaret said as she handed Emma a thermos, “you and Killian seem to be spending a lot of time together.”

“You said you brought soup?” Emma tried changing the subject.

Mary Margaret rolled her eyes, and smiled. “Grilled cheese too,” she said. She pulled two sandwiches wrapped in foil, a couple bowls, and a thermos filled with soup. As she started fixing up their meal, she tried again. “He likes you, you know.”

Emma couldn’t help but think of their almost kiss. Before the storm, she never would have entertained the thought, but after… she couldn’t quite place what had changed. “He feels guilty,” she said, trying to avoid the idea that Killian might actually be having the same feelings as her. “It doesn’t matter how many times I’ve forgiven him, he still blames himself for my predicament. He’s even seen how silly and loopy my meds make me, so he _knows_ I’m not miserable.”

Only, she’d stopped taking her meds just before the storm. Sure, maybe a little Tylenol here and there when her leg was achy, but for the most part, she wasn’t in a lot of pain. She was also more coherent, and-

“Emma?”

“Sorry, I just zoned out there,” she smiled, hoping she didn’t sound as nervous as she felt. Killian had gone from a well meaning thorn in her side, to someone she actually considered a friend. But it was more than that, she realized now. Sure, maybe he felt guilty at first, but he wasn’t lying when he confessed all those things to her during the storm.

“I’m sure if this was guilt, he wouldn’t be so dedicated,” Mary Margaret said, picking up right at Emma’s unvoiced thoughts. “He talks about you, and how stubborn you can be.” She looked up at Emma, and they both giggled.

“He’s pretty stubborn too,” Emma reminded her.

“Oh believe me,” she agreed, “I know. But I’m serious. He _really_ likes you. Not that he’ll admit it, but you can see it in his eyes when he talks about you.”

 _Or to me,_ Emma thought. As much as she didn’t want to admit it, she could see it too. It was in the way he trusted her with his deepest wounds, and how he listened without judgement as she trusted him with hers. How he never once pressured her to share all her secrets, and let her open up in her own way, and on her terms.

It was how he genuinely seemed to like her for her, and not her talent, fame potential, or money.

“Dammit.” She never told him about the money. Of course, she’d hinted that she wasn’t broke, but that was ridiculously vague. Once she told him about her real worth, things could drastically change.

“What’s wrong?”

“Can you keep a secret?” Maybe if she told Mary Margaret, she could get a reaction, and maybe even a little information on how Killian might take the news.

“Are you pregnant?” Mary Margaret asked, her eyes sparkling with glee.

“What?” Emma raised an eyebrow, “No!”

“Well, I mean...he did stay during the storm-”

“Mary Margaret!” Emma sighed and shook her head. “That was only a week ago, and I did _not_ sleep with him...not...not like that! We just cuddled to keep warm, that’s _it._ ”

“Naked?”

Emma made a face, and Mary Margaret dropped the subject. She couldn’t understand how the woman had jumped to _that_ conclusion.

“Look out!” David shouted. The girls shrieked as a wayward puck sailed over their heads, and landed in the snow on the other side of the picnic table.

“Dave’s fault!” Killian exclaimed.

Watching the two of them clumsily run over in their skates was comical, and by the time they made it to the table, Emma and Mary Margaret were doubled over in laughter.  

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Emma insisted while Killian panicked. She looked over to see her friend in the same predicament.

“Maybe it’s just time to pack up, and get warm,” Mary Margaret suggested between giggles. “I can make more hot chocolate back home.”

Killian looked over at Emma, as if to silently ask if she wanted to spend more time with everyone. Normally, she preferred solitude, but recently, she’d started to enjoy more company. She gave him a smile as her answer, which he promptly returned. She tried not to think about the butterflies that were starting up in her stomach when he helped her to her feet.

“See you at home,” Mary Margaret said as she and David gathered up the gear, turning down Killian’s offer for help.

“Do you need help, love?” he asked Emma, once David and Mary Margaret were on their way, and out of earshot.

“Killian, I told you, I’m fine.”

He frowned, and looked at the ground. “I saw you slipping a little on the way to the table. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Did you want to carry me?” She shook her head when he grinned from ear to ear. “I was kidding Killian!”

“Fine,” he groaned in fake protest. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you though.”  

He didn’t pick her up, but he did walk alongside her, hand at her back just in case she fell. They made it to the car without incident, which Emma considered a success. Killian helped her in, and then went over to his side of the car, and started it up so they could get the heat going.

After he’d switched out his skates for his boots, he shut the door, and turned to Emma. “Thank you,” he said, “for coming out, and for humoring Mary Margaret.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“She means well,” he explained. “I know you’re not much of a people person-”

“I like hanging out with you guys,” Emma said. “I think maybe it was just easier being alone, because it’s all I’ve ever really known.” She could see it in his eyes, something that wasn’t quite pity, but hinted at sadness. “Don’t feel sorry for me,” she insisted. “I promise, it’s not as horrible as it sounds.”

“I just want you to be happy,” he confessed.

“I _am_ happy,” she assured him. “Loneliness aside, believe me, my childhood wasn’t terrible. I had parents who loved and supported me no matter what. They were a tad overprotective, but I was their only kid.” She left out the part where they were overprotective because she was a walking target, but right now, that wasn’t important. “I may have shut down after they passed away, and retreated even further after everything that went down in Russia, but I’ve had a pretty good life. I’m happy, Killian, and I’m even happier now that you’re in my life.”

She was a little shocked that the words came out of her mouth before she had a chance to filter them. Judging from his reaction, they were the last words he expected to hear. But if the smile forming on his face was any indication, he was only caught off guard, and in no way disappointed in what he heard.

“I’m happier with you in my life too,” he admitted.

Emma decided right then and there that she was going to have that moment they’d been denied earlier.

“Emma, wait.” Killian stopped her, and shook his head. “I don’t want you thinking I did any of this in hopes of-”

“Killian, I know,” she said. “You’re just a good guy, and would have helped me no matter what. But, I got to know you, and I like spending time with you, and I _like_ you, and if you’re just saying this because you _don’t_ want me to like you, then just say it, and don’t use some silly excu-”

When he kissed her, whatever she was about to say was long forgotten. It was just an innocent little peck, really, but the sheepish grin on his face when he pulled away spoke volumes. He was just as nervous as she was.

“I um...didn’t mean to overstep...did I overstep?”

“No,” she giggled, “not at all.”

He kissed her again, slow, and sweet, as his fingers tangled in her hair. She clutched at his coat, as if she could somehow drag him closer. He let out a groan when she nipped at his bottom lip. He tasted like mint toothpaste with a hint of the coffee he'd guzzled on the way to the pond. She couldn't stop the butterflies that were now making her stomach do flip flops.

A loud knock on the window startled them both. Killian looked out the window, and grumbled as he rolled it down. “Yes, Leroy?”

“The lookout is further north,” the grumpy looking man stated, “and aren’t you a little old to be behaving like hormonal teengers in public?”

“Sod off,” Killian argued. The other man continued to lecture them as Killian rolled the window up. He looked back at Emma, “Sorry about that, love. He takes his security job _very_ seriously.”

“Right,” she laughed, “and it was getting _so_ hot and heavy in here. We should be ashamed.”

He leaned over, and kissed her cheek. “Shall we make sure our friends aren’t sending out a search party?”

“Sounds good,” she agreed.

* * *

Emma felt terrible. Killian was perfect, and she was a damned liar.

Their kiss had been the first of many, and even though she had her reservations about getting into a relationship, Killian was the kind of guy worth taking a chance on. He was kind, supportive, and trustworthy.

Funny thing. He believed she was trustworthy too.

She knew she had to tell him at some point, because the longer she waited, the bigger the wedge would be. It was already clear he liked her for her, and not for any monetary gain, so what was she so afraid of? Would things change if he figured out he’d won the lottery?

It had only been a few weeks, but she was already falling hard, and she could tell he was too.

Things came to a head when her cast came off. The ice on the pond had melted, so Killian took her to an ice rink a couple towns over. It was fairly empty due to the early hour, and she realized that Killian had made an arrangement so they could come in and skate before he had to go to work.

That was when she lost it.

“You have _got_ to stop paying for stuff,” she insisted as he pulled her out onto the ice. Every site she’d looked at told her it would be just like riding a bike, but here she was, barely able to maintain her balance.

He slipped an arm around her waist to help steady her, and reminded her that her newly healed leg was going to be unsteady at first. “It was no big deal. I’m not breaking the bank, Emma. I just want some time to ourselves, and we aren’t going to get that if we come after I get off work. Now, come on, let’s not argue about finances. Just let me be a good boyfriend?”

Her heart fluttered at the word. “You’re a good boyfriend,” she said, “but that doesn’t mean you have to pay for everything. I told you, I’m not broke. I know it looks that way, and I don’t have an actual job, but I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can,” he agreed, “despite some student loan repayments, I’m not broke either, and I enjoy doing things for you.”

She loved the fact that he enjoyed doing things for her, just as she loved doing things for him, but it still didn't feel right. “I just feel guilty when you spend money on me,” she said, hoping he wouldn't take offense. 

“Why?” he asked. “You spend money on me.” He had a point, but she still didn't feel it was fair when he worked to pay his bills, and all she had to do was sneeze, and have his student loans paid off like magic.

“That’s different.” She had to come clean.

“Hey,” he stopped, and pulled her into his arms, “it’s not different Emma. It’s a relationship. I know it’s still new, so I get it. If it really bothers you that much, I can stop, but I’m not doing anything because I feel obligated, it’s because I enjoy doing it.”

“But you work hard for your money,” she said.

“And I’m certain you’ve worked hard for yours.”

“Not really.” She looked up at him, and it took everything she had not to hang her head in shame. “Killian, I’ve been keeping something huge from you.”

“You’re _not_ Emma Swan, the figure skater?” he teased.

That made her laugh a little, and she hoped that _maybe_ he wouldn’t be angry. “I _am_ Emma Swan, the figure skater. I’m also Emma Swan, daughter, and sole heir to a _very_ rich owner of a hotel chain.” She gave it a moment to sink in before she continued: “I’m loaded.”

“You don’t mean-”

“Swan Resorts?”

“Aye.”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “My parents adopted me when I was little, and they did everything they could to keep it under wraps, and keep me out of the spotlight. I mean, when you’re one of the richest families in the world, you want to protect your kids. I had private tutors, and if I ever left the house, security for days. My name wasn’t even made public.”

“That sounds horrible.”

“I know,” she agreed, “but it really wasn’t. My parents were good people, and they loved me, they were just _really_ paranoid. I can understand why.”

“I’d heard about them passing in an accident some years ago,” he said, “I wasn’t aware they had a child. I suppose you just explained that.”

“Yeah. I’m a spoiled, rich kid, who got everything she wanted,” she sighed. “I’d give it all up if I could just have them back.” She explained about the accident, how guardianship had fallen to her nanny, and how she was too young to take over the company at the time. “I took a step back once I was old enough to take control. Running a hotel and resort chain isn’t for me. But it’s still mine, and even though I’ve put other people in charge, I get a steady income from it, on top of the nice trust fund my parents left me.”

“It sounds like your parents wanted to make sure you were taken care of no matter what,” he said.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I should have, but it isn’t really something I go blabbing.”

“Your secret is safe with me,” he smiled, “and it doesn’t change anything. I can understand it. You weren’t only escaping the Olympics fiasco, were you?”

“People were starting to figure it out,” she said, “so, I moved out to the middle of nowhere, in an unassuming apartment. It’s just me anyway, not like I need a huge mansion or anything ridiculous like that. Though...since I’m being honest, I do have a nice penthouse in New York. So, if you ever wanted to take a vacation…”

“I have a timeshare in Hawaii,” he offered, “just in case you ever find New York too stuffy. Though..I’m certain you have a place there too?”

Technically, she had a place anywhere Swan Resorts had a building, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. “Maybe we could make a vacation out of it?”

“Great plan,” Killian decided, “now...how about we skate?” When Emma nodded, he let her go, and took her hand. “Mind your leg, love. It’ll remember soon enough. Just...nothing fancy until you meet your coach, okay?” Emma nodded, and then raised an eyebrow. Killian grinned, “Ingrid Winters, you’ll meet her on Saturday.”

“Wait… you got me the best damn coach in the country? _How_?”

Killian rolled his eyes, “don’t you keep up with your own sport, Swan?” When she gave him the stink eye, he laughed. “I’ve been looking into availability, and recently, Ms. Winters popped up on my radar. Turns out, her award winning skater got pregnant.”

“So? People have life events all the time. She’ll have the baby, and come back.”

“She got pregnant and quit. Like, _really_ quit. Apparently it was quite the fiasco.” He shrugged, “I was told that her coach tried to push the temporary hiatus angle, but the woman just wasn’t having it. So, congratulations to her, and lucky for you.”

“Oh.” She was giddy with excitement, and amused that her boyfriend was up on all the skating world gossip. “Do I send congratulations, or a thank you card?”

“Perhaps both?” he shrugged.

Emma laughed when he tugged on her hand, signaling that she wasn’t skating enough. She was grateful that he was by her side, her leg still a little uncertain, but it didn’t take long for her to feel at ease again on the ice. “How did you sell me?” She asked, letting go of his hand, and moving backwards so she could face him.

“It wasn’t easy,” he admitted. “Running off and disappearing didn’t exactly help your cause, but I told her your story. I told her you’d been training solo, but were unable to find anyone to work with you due to all those nasty rumors. That was the selling point. She’s not one for gossip, and seemed to understand after I’d explained why you’d run off. By the way, your ex can’t seem to find anyone to hire him anymore.” When Emma laughed, he grinned. “Thought you’d like that. Anyway, I know it sounds campy and cliche, but she’s determined to turn you into the ‘comeback kid’. She says you can do it, Swan, and so long as you’re serious, she’ll help you get there.”

Emma was damned determined to prove herself, but she didn't exactly have a lot of time to do that. “Do you think I can do it?”

“I've yet to see you fail.” She was just about to comment on how sweet he was, when he smirked, and added: “Except for that one time, when you failed to avoid a hockey puck.”

She stopped skating, and he almost collided right into her. “Who's the klutz now?” She giggled, smacking at him playfully.

“Unfair,” he stated, “you didn't signal that you were stopping.” He wrapped his arms around her, and hugged her tightly. “If you can't properly signal on the ice, I shudder to imagine you behind the wheel.”

“Says the guy who can’t navigate a puck down the ice,” she reminded him.

“You love me, and you know it.”

The words were playful, but there was something more behind them. Realization hit her full force. “Yeah,” she said, “I guess I do know it.”

“Swan?”

“I love you.”

A slow smile spread across his face as he took in what she’d said. “I love you too.”

Emma wiggled out of his grasp, and giggled, “I’ll let you kiss me if you can catch me.” She sped off, and set a quick pace, laughing even harder when she heard him scrambling to catch up.

“Bloody hell!” she heard him shout.

She turned to see, he’d tripped over his own two feet, and was falling backwards. He hit the ice with a hard “thunk” before she could get to him.

“Killian!” she reached him, then knelt down next to him, “are you okay?”

“I think I broke my arse,” he said weakly. He smiled when she combed her fingers through his hair. “Does this count as catching you?”

“Sure,” she laughed, leaning down to kiss him. “And you told _me_ to be careful,” she murmured against his lips. He chuckled, and she kissed the smirk right off of his face.

If they weren’t surrounded by security cameras, and the ice wasn’t so darn cold, Emma might have jumped him right then and there, bruised butt and all. Instead, she chose coffee over frostbite. “Hey, tiger,” she said, giving him one last quick kiss, “why don’t we get off this ice before your extremities freeze. We can grab some Starbucks, and maybe a little more alone time before you have to get to work.” She was sure he’d planned for more ice time, but he’d fallen hard, and was probably going to be sore once the numbing effect from the cold was gone.

Killian nodded in agreement, and she helped him back up to his feet. “I love you,” he told her again.

“I know.”

  
  



End file.
